The Quiet Ones
by GingerSouffle
Summary: She's always thought the adventures in her books would remain as such, in her books. Unbeknownst to her, making the unlikely acquaintance of a certain dark haired boy might change all of that. But first, they must survive their new lives at the boarding school. (Takes place after LWW)
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia. Only my own characters.**

 **A/N**

 **I have not read the Chronicles of Narnia and I'm going loosely off the movies, filling in the blanks with my imagination with what I think makes sense. This is a fairly slow moving fic at the moment but I hope you stick with me.**

 **Important: As I mentioned, I have not read the books and am filling in the blanks myself. I'm following the ages of the children in the movie universe (roughly). And the boarding schools are co-ed. Takes place after LWW but before PC.**

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Officially the first day of classes and I've given up hope already. Standing in the doorway of the classroom, I look at the dark haired boy sitting in the desk in the back corner closest to the window. Sitting in the exact the spot I want. I clench my fist and begrudgingly sit in the desk to his left. It'll have to do. Looking around the classroom, the teacher has written his name on the board and is at the large oak desk, focusing on the novel in his hands while other students flock in clusters, creating a white noise of small talk. Reprimanding myself for not coming sooner, I let out a small sigh. Well, we can't have everything we want now can we? Class starts.

Ten minutes in and my eyes have already glazed over, my gaze lackadaisically switching between the clock and the teacher. I swear his monotone voice is slowing my heart rate, I think to myself sarcastically. I don't know how much longer I can last before it becomes dangerous. Then again, I guess it is my own fault for enjoying reading history books since I know more about Napoleon's conquests than I guess I'm supposed to. Though, I still can't help feeling like I'm being punished for something that most parents are trying to convince their child to do. Glancing out at the window, I catch a glimpse of the boy. He doesn't look like he's doing much better off than I.

Xcxcxcxcxc

It's only the eighth day when I begin to crumble again. Not even two weeks in. I told myself as soon as I got on that train from the country that no matter what happened when I got off, I would stay strong. Yet, here I am, disappointing myself again.

Soft tears fall across my cheeks and I blink, letting them spill over to their full extent. I wipe them away on the sleeves of my uniform and pull my handkerchief from my pocket to wipe my nose.

I'm a mess. I know everyone would say I have the right to be a mess after stepping off that train to find out that my Mother was gone. But I'm better than that. At least, I'd hoped I was. I had already let myself cry and I'd pushed down my feelings so they appeared less now but, here I was again; sobbing into my uniform. Other people have better reasons to cry. At least my father was still alive (or in theory anyway since no letters have come in). A final thought glistens past my mind jolting me from my disposition. Mother wouldn't want to see you cry. I let out a breath. I need to find a distraction.

Placing my handkerchief in my pocket, I pull my socks up, re-tie my hair and walk to the one place I know I will always find comfort.

The library is smaller than I expected for a school of this size. Containing only a handful of tables and desks, it's clear that this library isn't used enough to be a replacement for the study hall in the other wing. The low light cascading through the large windows adds an almost eerie tinge, overpowering the warm glow of the lamps fastened in between the shelves. Despite the less than ideal space, my eyes still twinkle with a sense of awe and excitement as I gaze at the perfectly sufficient amount of books; unfamiliar and waiting to be opened.

I walk to the closest shelf, messenger bag swinging limply against my hip as I let my fingers dance across the spines, eyes quickly skimming the titles. _Letters to Juliet. A Romance to Remember. Only You, Dearest._ I stop abruptly. I'm in the wrong section.

Hastily, I walk to the row over, hoping to be as far away as possible from the romance section, stopping as a title catches my eye. _Understanding Innovation: A Machinist's Guide to How Things Work._ I pull it out of the shelf and loosely flip through the pages before putting it back. Maybe some other time. I keep walking further. _The King's Temptation_. The medieval themed cover catches my attention and I gloss over the plot synopsis before taking it to a desk, eyes never leaving the book, and indulge myself.

The moon is in the sky by the time I leave, a mere half hour before closing. My bag is heavy with a few books ranging from history to novels. As much as I like to know things, I do enjoy going on adventures. As make believe as they are. I blush in mild embarrassment at this thought. Passing a range of classrooms and empty halls, I exit the building and cut across the moonlit courtyard to the dorms. Finding the girls floor, my head hits my pillow and I fall asleep with more ease than I had in days.

Xcxcxcxcx

The bell rings signalling the end of classes for the day. Collecting my books, my head perks up at the small group of girls coming way. I recognize the one red head as my roommate, Rachel.

"Violet," I stand up straighter and look at her company. "This is Heather, Tracy and Julia. We're going to meet with Stephanie at the gates and then go look at some of the dresses in the shops. Want to come?" I bite my lip. Do I really want to subject myself to that kind of torture?

At my hesitation, Tracy, a joyful looking girl with hair braided to perfection speaks. "There's a shop on Main. I hear they have new colours for the fall season!" Rachel and them giggle with excitement. I smile politely.

"Thank you, Rachel. But I'm afraid I must be heading to the library." A catch what I think is a trace of hurt in her eyes.

"Well, all right. But do come next time."

"I'll see you back at the room, tonight." I say, not wishing to reject her hinted second invitation.

When they're almost out of earshot, I catch snippets of their conversation.

"She's kind of a weirdo."  
"I mean, who spends _that_ much time at the library." Short giggles.

"She's not that bad. She's just…" I don't catch Rachel's defense as they round the corner.

Rachel. I let out a sigh. Bless her soul for trying to include me but I can't, or rather won't bring myself to join her and her friends on their money wasting exploits mixed with mindless gossip. I don't understand the use in spending money on dresses when one can only wear them on weekends and off the school grounds. I'm also pretty awful at the business of makeup, knowing from when I've tried a time or two previous. I'd rather just not deal with all of that.

Perhaps I'm too harsh. I respect them for wanting to look nice and I know they would probably jump at the chance to help me be more presentable with lipstick and the like but, knowing Stephanie, and over-hearing the harsh words of gossip from their mouths, I think I'd rather live in my books. I can only hope Rachel doesn't get burned too badly.

Closing the final book, I thumb the pamphlet that I took off the bulletin in front of the library. I'd been using it as a bookmark to remind myself but today is the day. I read the sheet, "Fencing Club. Fridays at 3pm. All are welcome." I take in a nervous breath and set off to find the grand hall. I had done a few months of fencing prior to the war and though I had to stop when I was away due to the air raid scares, I had been intending to come back to it. It was a good way of getting my body to move and I can only imagine the pain that's going to be involved returning to the sport since I've become decently nonathletic in the past year or so.

Despite the fencing club's poor equipment and consisting mostly of boys in upper years, and a handful of girls (also in upper years), I enjoyed myself quite a bit. I can feel my arm aching at having to keep the foil raised in the air for the hour block, not to mention my sore legs. The sweat is dripping down my forehead and I feel gross in my gym clothes, all of which attesting to my lack of physical ability. However, the coach is nice and the other students don't bother me, even if they ignore me except to have a duel. It's probably just because I'm a two years or so younger than they are. Reaching my room, I change back into my school uniform and head out the door to the library. I think I'll go to the fencing club more regularly. I chuckle to myself. God knows I need to exercise.

Sifting through the rows, I pick up a book and turn, freezing in place. It's the boy from my class, sitting at a desk with a stack of books. His eyebrows are etched in focus at the one cracked open before him. I never took him for the reading type with how dazed he always looks in class. A thought strikes me. Maybe he's bored for the same reason that I am. I take a tentative step closer. Curiosity flutters in my chest and I unconsciously squeeze the books in my arms.

Walking by his desk, I purposely glance down at the stack, attempting to read the spines without being obvious. The moment passes too soon for me to make out the titles and my shoulders slump slightly in defeat as I continue by. Shaking him from my mind, I sign out the my books and find a desk far away from his. I see his head glance up at mine before returning back to his own materials.

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 **Thanks for reading!**

 **A/N**

 **I know not much really happened in this chapter, just laying out a bit of foundation. Should pick up in the next chapter or so. Also. if anyone could clarify me on the timeline of events of the Pevensies in England that would be greatly appreciated (have done inconclusive research).**

 **Another note, I'm bit unhappy with how the events have been laid out in this chapter so I might polish it up after posting. Suggestions and constructive criticism greatly appreciated!**

 **Will be posting next chapter hopefully in a week or so.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello,**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own The Chronicles of Narnia. I only own my own characters and plot points.**

 **A/N**

 **Thank you to those who reviewed, followed or favourited and thank you everyone for sticking with this story. Hope you enjoy the new chapter.**

* * *

Over the next week, and after turning down many of their invitations, Rachel and her friends have stopped asking me to join them. It is also around this time that I witness my first fight, beginning with the chants floating down the hall as I step out of fencing practice.

Wiping my sweaty brows, I turn my head in the direction of the noise, watching as several boys run past me towards the source. Curiosity getting the better of me, I follow.

A group of students have formed a semicircle with four or five boys, maybe a year or two older than I, brawling in the center. I keep to the outer edge, wanting to remain as uninvolved as possible yet unable to break my gaze. My eyes switch between the blonde boy pinned to the lockers, barely dodging punches by the two and a pair of other boys wrestling viciously on the ground. A right jab catches the blonde. Blood spurts, staining his white shirt. I grimace as I watch. Off guard, he takes a solid hit to the abdomen and he bends over, gasping.

A boy on the ground scrambles up, latching onto one about to throw another punch at the blonde, grabbing his arm before he can land the blow. He delivers a solid blow of his own before being dragged to the ground again by the one he left there. The blonde takes his opportunity to land a few punches, almost getting the better of the two boys, and then it's over.

Heavy footsteps approach and the crowd dissipates as quickly as it gathered. Two teachers come into view at the end of the hall and I quickly turn to follow the other students. A final glance over the offending boys and I stop, eyes locked onto the familiar face from my class as he wipes the blood from his split lip. His gaze pierces into mine with an unreadable expression though the cold-blooded hostility is clear; a remnant of the fight. I walk away.

xcxcxcxcxcx

"Rachel?" I call as I enter our shared bedroom, dropping my bag onto my bed. "Did you see the fight today?"

She looks up at me from her desk in the corner, placing the makeup compact down. "I heard about it from a few of the boys. They said it was pretty ugly."

"It was. I don't understand why anyone would want to start such a fight in the first place." I plop down onto my bed and begin to unfasten the laces of my boots.

"Well, it wasn't Jackson's fault or anything. They said that Peter, a boy from their class, just came out of nowhere and hit him. And you know Jackson,"

"I don't." I cut in.

"Maybe if you came with us sometime you'd know." I can feel the contempt in her voice but I ignore it. "He's not one to back down from a fight and when he gets involved the other boys aren't going to just stand there and let their friend get hit."

"But there was more than one boy. It wasn't three against one."

"Oh, him? He's Peter's younger brother from what I know. Just came rushing in like a fool after the fight started." I think for a second.

"I'm not inclined to believe that anyone is stupid enough to hit someone without a real reason." Rachel shrugs nonchalantly at my comment.

"Well, that's just how it happened." I feel a stifling of annoyance building in my chest at her ignorance. Biting back my response, I walk up to the full length mirror, pulling the thin strip of ribbon from my hair to collect all of the straggly ends before starting to tie it up again.

"You know, Violet." I watch her through the mirror. She leans back on the chair balancing casually. "I don't know why you don't come with me and the girls sometime. They might say some things but they're not all bad, you know? They just take a little bit of getting used to."

"I don't know if that's something I want to get used to." Speaking honestly.

"But they're really nice. They just don't know you yet. If you'd just give them a chance I'm sure they'd love you." Her voice is still so hopeful. I thought she'd given up already. "You're definitely pretty enough to join."

"What?" That statement catches me off guard and I turn to look at her directly, eyes wide, pausing with a hand still holding my hair. She chuckles lightly.

"Don't you know?" A sly smile laces her lips. "Some of the boys think you're quite the catch."

"Really?" I look at her with genuine disbelief. She laughs and walks up behind me.

"Well, of course. Come here." She gently takes the hair out of my hands, letting the blonde locks fall across my shoulders before pulling it to one side. I watch with fascination as she quickly plaits it over one shoulder into an effortless fishtail braid. Signalling with her hand, I pass her the purple ribbon. Finishing with an elegant small bow, she sets my bangs nicely on my face before holding my shoulders.

"See? Isn't that better?" I look at my reflection, mildly stunned. It was simple, but I couldn't deny that she was right with braid showing off the light blonde colour while framing my face in an effortless fashion. The purple ribbon sitting just above my breast almost gives the illusion of colour in my gray eyes, finishing off the look.

"Woah." The mere whisper is all I can afford as Rachel beams at her handy work.

"Now imagine what I could do with a bit of makeup and a nicer dress."

"Rachel.." Uncertainty laces my voice. I can't place a name on it but despite everything, this somehow still feels wrong.

"The boys might think you're pretty but they also think you're a bit of a weirdo. Well, so do the girls. But that's nothing that can't be fixed."

"But I.." Don't quite know what to say.

"In fact," She looks at the calendar on the wall. "Ha! I'm right! There's a party tonight. Everyone is going. You should come too!"

"How can there even be parties when we live in a dorm?" I ask, legitimately puzzled.

"All of us may attend the same classes but not all of us live on the grounds. Billy Mason's parents are out of town so we're all going to his house. It'll be a lot of fun!" Her giddy attitude emanates through the room. "I can make you look pretty. I'll do your makeup and you can even borrow one of my dresses. You'll be perfect!" She pulls a lavender dress from a drawer and holds it up to me, checking the size. "We even make sure to get back before curfew so you have nothing to worry about."

"I don't know if I should."

"You say that a lot." She smiles as shoves the dress in my hands.

"Pardon me?"

"I don't know." She mocks in a joking matter before continuing. "You say that all the time. What about instead of thinking so much you just enjoy yourself for a night?"

Fingering the dress in my hands, I glance in the mirror. Maybe she is right. Maybe I do think too much. Besides, one night can't hurt anyone, right? Tucking a piece of hair behind my ear I look at Rachel and crack a nervous grin. She almost jumps in excitement.

Half an hour later, we're both dressed and ready. Rachel sports a green tea length dress, complimenting her fiery hair, bright red lipstick and a touch of blush. Much the same, the lavender dress ends below my knees and is cut almost perfectly to show off my waist. Unlike Rachel, mascara coats my lashes and only a hint of pink is on my lips. Looking at my reflection, I almost can't believe it. I look almost… Dare I say it?... Cute?

"Oh, you look so adorable, Violet!" Rachel jumps up and wraps her arms around me tightly. I shrug nervously, not quite knowing how to react.

Grabbing my hand, she pulls me towards the door. "Come on, Stephanie and the others are probably all at the gate already." I pull my hand out of her grasp as doubt consumes me. A puzzled look dawns on her face.

"Um. I need a moment." I blurt out quickly. Studying me curiously, she gives in.

"Well, alright." Disheartened, she regains her cheery spirit before rushing out the door. "Just don't keep us waiting!" And with the flash of a smile, she's gone.

The door clicks shut and I let out a long held, shaky breath. I could almost go through with it but when the time came, I just couldn't. Something about all of this is wrong and no matter how I try to ignore it, it'll always come back to my heart. Boots clicking on the floor, cutting through the welcomed silence, I slowly approach the mirror once more. Nose an inch away from the glass, I touch my fair skin.

I know it's not taking an interest in the art of being attractive which has me trapped, it's the people. Just hearing Rachel proves that much. To see how much she's changed in the past week, it's almost scary. She might not be able to see it but, they don't care about her nor I and listening to how shallow they are makes it oh so clear in my mind. As tempted as I am, I touch my pink lips, I just can't abandon myself in that way.

Clenching her dress in my hand, I realize it's not as simple as I'm making it out to be since now I would be going against Rachel as well, essentially abandoning her after she's put in the effort to include me. Maybe I should just go along. I reach for the door knob.

 _Trust yourself._ The voice of my mother floats into my head, halting me. Mother… My hand shakes and I swallow. She would know what to do right now. If only my mother were here to tell me so. But she's gone. _Trust yourself._

I set my jaw and hastily change into my uniform, folding Rachel's dress and placing it on her bed. Swiftly, I dash out the door, wiping my coated lips on my arm as I round the corner.

Entering the library, I stride over to a shelf of books, pulling one off. I glance at the title briefly. A novel. Slumping down to the floor, I prop myself up on a wooden section in the shelfs and open the book.

Unable to focus, I close my eyes and rest my head in my hand, elbow propped up against my knee. It seems like no matter what I do I just can't win. God, Rachel doesn't even know that I changed my mind. I swallow the emotions rising in my throat. I'm pathetic. I open my eyes to the pages, not quite reading the lines.

Time has passed. I can feel it in my bones as I open my eyes. I realize I must've fallen asleep as I look around to the book still open in my lap and the stiffness in my bones. Rubbing my neck, I close the book and slowly rise to my feet. Detachedly, I look at the novel in my hands. Mind as well read it.

The glow of the lamps guide me between the vacant tables and I notice that the librarian's desk is empty. As I draw closer, the rattling and squeaking of the book cart stops. The boy behind the cart locks eyes with me. Of course it has to be _him._ He straightens his posture and walks over.

"Mrs. Wilson is out. Can I help you instead?" Under the light I can see a bluish pink bruise on his cheek and another sneaking beneath his shirt collar. I also notice that he's careful of his recently split lip as he speaks.

"I didn't know you worked here." I comment.

"I don't. I'm only here for the week."

"I'm surprised you're even still here given how strict this school is. " He smirks lightly.

"As it happens, they're fairly forgiving of students with good grades. I was let off with a warning and a week of service." Pausing, he rests his hands on his hips, glancing around before looking back at me expectedly. "Well?"

The one word question spurs me into remembering my purpose and I place the book on the desk. He flips open the cover to grab the catalogue slip.

"Are you even authorized to do this?" I ask.

"Do you really care?" He retorts without looking up. Fair point.

Pulling a pen from the holder, he pops the cap and bends over the desk. "First name?"

"Violet."

"English or French?" At my pause he looks up, dark pupils barely peeking out of the hair in front of his eyes. "The spelling?" He clarifies with a hint of impatience.

"I can do it." I offer instead. He gives me the pen without question and straightens up while I fill out the slip. A moment passes and I can almost feel his scrutinizing gaze.

"Are you alright?" The question catches me off guard but its the sincerity in his voice which makes my pen freeze. I keep my eyes focused on the slip.

"Why do you ask?"

"Couldn't help but notice that you're a looking a little bit worse for wear." Immediately, I'm self conscious. Imagining how I must look after hastily putting on my uniform, running through the halls, and wiping my face full of makeup makes me realize just how much of mess I must look like. The braid peering into my view has pieces falling out of place and my dress shirt isn't straight. I'm glad I don't know what my face looks like.

"Could say the same about you." I shoot back, in reference to his bruises.

"I'm not the one who fell asleep on the library floor."

Finished slip in hand, I hold it out to him ignoring his comment. He takes it and stares at it for a moment.

"Violet Ainsley… Weird name." Turning his back he flips through the folders, searching for the right catalogue number.

"And what might your's be?" I ask in an dispassionate manner.

"Edmund." He places the slip into a folder and turns back to me. "Pevensie." Taking a small card from the stack on the desk, he stamps a date and slides the card into the book.

"Due in two week… As I'm sure you know."

"Thank you, _Pevensie_." I purposely over enunciate each syllable, as if testing it on my lips.

"You're welcome, _Ainsley_." I crack a small smirk which he shares before I turn and walk away, leaving him in the solitude of the warmly lit room.

xcxcxcxcxcx

Rachel had stayed up, waiting for my return. The blue moonlight casts shadows across the floor and furniture, her silhouette sitting upright on her bed, unmistakable. I'm struck with a sudden nervousness as I quietly enter, slowly lifting the bag from my shoulder and placing it at the foot of my bed.

"You didn't come." She says with a stern nature of which I've never heard from her. Arms crossed and folded across her chest, I can barely make out her scrutinizing gaze.

"I'm sorry, I just couldn-" I begin to explain in a soft tone.

"You didn't come." I clench my teeth at her repeated statement.

"I know." Serious. Eyes downcast before looking at her. "I'm sorry." She sucks in a deep breath before exhaling loudly. I don't quite know how to treat her. I've never seen her like this.

"Do you have any idea what you made me look like? I told them to wait. I told them you were coming." I deserve the harshness. I know I do. It's because of that I let her continue. A moment passes. "You made me look like a fool."

"I'm sorry." She shakes her head in disbelief.

"After you said you would come? And even after all of the work I did to make you pretty? How could you?" A pause. "You know what? Never mind." She cuts herself off and lets out another breath. A half smile illuminates her face, catching me off guard. "I was wrong to think that you'd come with us anyway. So, I get it."

"You do?" Barely above a whisper, it escapes my throat, not quite believing what I hear.

"Yeah. I get it. It's pretty plain to see." Something in her eyes and the way she smiles strikes me as unnerving, but only for the flash. She rests down on the bed.

"Rachel, I really am sorry about today. I shouldn't have done that." I begin softly, feeling the need to explain myself regardless of her words. "These people, they aren't for me, I just don't get along with them and I don't think I ever will. These people… They aren't good." Her back is to me and her blanket is pulled up covering her shoulder.

"Mhm." She answers as if barely hearing what I said. All I can hope for is that she listened despite giving a front.

Letting out a sigh, I lie down in my bed and draw the blanket to my chin, facing the wall. I clench the fabric in my fist, and then relax my grip. I don't sleep well.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading!**

 **A/N**

 **They finally speak to each other! I don't have to call him 'the boy from the class' anymore.**

 **Anyways, if you have any feedback or suggestions, I'd really like to hear it so don't be afraid to punch that review button.**


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